The Littlest Rebels
by SweetSinger2010
Summary: Collection of AU drabbles. Hera Syndulla teaches kindergarten. The littlest students take up the biggest places in her heart. Kanera whenever possible.
1. Art

A/N: I don't really know how to explain this AU except to say that I was online complaining about my lovely, Christmas-crazed students and **ddaulton94** suggested/challenged me to concoct a "Hera teaches school" AU and channel my experiences into little "chapters" of 500 words or less. And I'm procrastinating a final paper right now, so naturally, I wrote this instead. Enjoy.

Also, check out **ddaulton94's** original web novel, "The Luckless Mage of Greidwhen Academy." It's fantastic! Just go. Read it now. The web url is an acronynm of the title and then dot com. I'd link it, but we all know how this lovely site is about links.

* * *

Art

For the first time all day, there was a semblance of quiet in the classroom. Students were either at learning centers or at their desks working on sentence-writing packets. Hera was sitting at her horseshoe table, three students in front of her as she helped them recognize vowel sounds. It was an idyllic moment; all the little minds in her care were fully engaged, working hard to build skills that would contribute to bright futures. A near-maternal pride welled.

And then the classroom door burst open, Sabine Wren striding in, eyes flashing. Hera's stomach sank into her shoes. She hadn't even noticed she had a student missing. "Sabine!" She called, aggrieved. "Where did you just come from?"

It had been well over half an hour since anyone had asked to go to the bathroom—a world record, probably—and it hadn't been Sabine.

The girl tossed her head as she took her seat, folding her hands primly atop her desk. "The bathroom."

Hera swallowed. "Doing?" The answer was most certainly not _going pee_.

"Art." The reply was decidedly smug and it was then that Hera saw several neon-colored Sharpies sticking out of the girl's pocket.

"Art," she repeated dumbly. She got up and dashed across the hall, poking her head into the girls' restroom to see brilliant designs scrawled across the mirrors. Her mouth fell open—not just because of the magnitude of the girl's vandalism and the efficiency with which she must have worked—but because the drawings were very, very good, displaying the dexterity and talent of a child older than Sabine's six years. For a second, Hera stood and marveled.

And then she heard a shriek.

"Miss Syndulla! Sabine's drawing on the board!"

Hera swore under breath, running back to her classroom. She ran into Coach Jarrus halfway there, and he laughed loudly as he steadied her with hands on her shoulders. "Trouble in paradise?" He teased.

"Shut up," she snapped. She heard him snicker his way back to the gym as she stepped back into the pit of chaos that was now her room. Most of her students were standing behind Sabine at the white board, watching as she wrought artful destruction there. A few students immediately rushed Hera at the door, tugging at her clothing and patting any part of her body they could reach, eager to get her attention and tattle. "I know, I know." She gently pushed the children away, wading through what felt like a sea of them as she tried to get to the board. "Go. Sit. Down."

They didn't.

And as Hera tugged the marker out of Sabine's hand, she heard someone ask suggestively, "Miss Syndulla, is Coach Jarrus your boyyyyfriend?" The entire class giggled and Hera plopped her head against the board, just….standing there. She glanced down at her watch.

It was only ten-thirty.


	2. Cupcake

A/N: True story, one of my favorite students (a kindergartener) proposed to me today with a ring he got from a cupcake. I let him down gently, of course, but I was touched that he asked.

* * *

Cupcake

Hera didn't always eat the cupcakes kids brought for their birthdays, but there were rare occasions where she felt more than justified in doing so. Today had been a _day._ Rainy weather kept the students indoors for recess and she felt like she'd spent the better part of the afternoon peeling them off the ceiling. She'd have had better luck trying to herd kittens than getting this bunch to sit down and read. She knew she _needed_ some sugar and carbs if she was going to survive until dismissal time.

She leaned on the edge of her desk eating her Ninja Turtle cupcake carefully as she watched her students, seated and chattering happily, make a crummy mess of their snacks. Her first instinct was to panic when she saw frosting transfer from their sticky fingers to literally everything else, but there was such sweet delight and contentment on their faces; she decided to enjoy the simple moment.

Her reverie was interrupted by the soft tapping of a small hand on her thigh. She looked down to see tiny Ezra Bridger, his blue-stained mouth lifted in a shy smile as one grubby hand pushed his mop of dark hair out of his eyes. Hera's heart broke for this orphan-boy who'd so recently lost his parents. He was in the system now, at a children's home until some kind of semi-permanent arrangement could be made for him. Hera had been after Kanan-a former foster kid himself and a mentee of Ezra's caseworker-to try and do something for the small boy.

She set her cupcake aside and crouched in front of Ezra. "Yes, love?"

"Miss Syndulla," he lisped, gaze downcast, "you're my favorite teacher."

It didn't matter that she was the _only_ teacher he'd ever had; the statement rang with all the sincerity in the world. Hera smiled, feeling her eyes go misty. "Thank you so much."

He opened one balled-up fist to reveal the plastic ring that had topped his cupcake. The sticker-picture of Donatello was smeared with blue frosting. "I'm gonna love you forever," he said fervently. "Will you marry me?"

Hera's throat closed. This boy didn't know what marriage was. He didn't want a wife. He just wanted to be loved and taken care of. She took his hands in both of hers, frosting and all. "How about a really, really big hug?"

He nodded, tears brimming, and threw his arms around her neck. She held him tightly, his thin little body melting warmly in her embrace, wishing that she could mend all his broken pieces. The cupcake ring fell forgotten.


	3. Social Skills

A/N: Maaaaaaan do these little drabbles feel rough. Please excuse me while I try to remember how to do the whole writing thing.

* * *

Social Skills

"My wife would have been here as well," Alrich Wren said apologetically, "but our youngest is sick with a fever."

Hera smiled in understanding as she ushered him to the chair in front of her desk. "Not a problem."

Mentally, she was sighing with relief. It was mid-semester, which meant parent-teacher conferences, and there had been a short list of students whose parents she was _not_ looking forward to meeting with. Sabine and her mother fell somewhere in the middle of that list. Ursa Wren was an imposing woman. Unfailingly polite and reasonable, but intimidating nonetheless. And given what Hera had to say about Sabine, she was happy to be dealing with the gentler parent. It wasn't that she couldn't have held her own against Ursa-she just didn't want to.

As Alrich listened patiently, Hera spread the little girl's assessment data, learning progress, and work samples in front of him, explaining everything carefully. "Sabine is _very_ bright," she said in conclusion. "She's above average in reading and writing, she shows ingenuity when we're working on STEM projects, and she's creatively gifted, as I'm sure you already know."

"STEM?"

"Science, technology, engineering, and mathematic."

Alrich gave a rueful smile. "Ah, yes. She _does_ like to tinker with things. I trust there've been no more incidents with drawing on things which aren't meant to be drawn on?"

Hera bit back a laugh. "No, not at all. I-" She hesitated. "I did want to talk to you about her social skills, though."

The father's lips flattened in a thin line. "Let me guess: she hasn't made friends very well."

Hera's brows rose. "You knew."

"We suspected. She can be...headstrong."

"Not a bad thing with a little redirection. It's gotten better since the beginning of the year, but if you could talk to her at home about taking turns and listening, I think it would go a long way."

Alrich nodded. "She has mentioned one friend-a little boy. I think Ezra is his name?"

"Ezra." Hera smiled. "It's a recent development, but I think she's got herself a friend for life."


	4. Pinky Swear

Pinky Swear

 _Several Days Earlier_

Ezra Bridger tasted the sweet freedom of recess and sunshine and wind blowing in his face as he raced out to the playground, eyes fixed on his favorite swing, the center one. He raced across the basketball court-and then stopped cold when he heard a pained wail behind him. He turned around as other kids zoomed by and saw Sabine Wren at the end of the pack, heaped on the ground. She sat up, looking at scraped palms and a bleeding knee. Tears dripped off her chin. He ran to her, sliding onto to the ground beside her like he was finishing a homerun and his life depended on it.

"Are you okay?"

" _Yes,"_ she said, pushing tears off her face with balled-up fists. "Go away."

"You got hurt." He examined her knee, unaware of the nasty look she was shooting. "I'll go tell Miss Syndulla."

Sabine gasped. "No! Don't!"

But he was already gone, racing for his teacher. She was playing foursquare with a group of other students, but paused the game when she saw him coming for her. "Miss Syndulla," he panted, out of breath, "Sabine fell down and got hurt."

Miss Syndulla's mouth made a frown and her eyes looked for Sabine. "How hurt? Emergency hurt?"

"No, no, no," he answered quickly. "But maybe I could take her to the nurse for a bandaid?"

"I think that's a good idea, Ezra. Thank you. Make sure to come tell me that you're back."

"Okay." He smiled up at his beautiful teacher and then gave thumbs-up as he ran off.

When he got back to Sabine, who was standing up now and holding on to her hurt knee, she stuck her tongue out at him. "I told you not to tell! My mama says that girls have to be tough and you can't cry about-"

"But I didn't say you were crying! I just said you got hurt. Come on-we'll go to the nurse."

She just looked at him as he took her hand and led her away. "You really didn't tell?"

"I didn't! Pinky swear."

"'Kay."

The rest of their walk inside was made in silence, but as they went back out to the playground, Ezra asked, "Does your knee feel better?"

"I guess." She paused. "Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome." He bit his lip, suddenly embarrassed. "Hey-do you think we could be friends? I don't have a lot."

"Me either. Yeah, we can be friends. Just don't _ever_ tell that I was crying like a baby."

"I won't."

She held out her hand, pinky extended. "Pinky swear?"

He hooked his pinky through hers. "Pinky swear."


End file.
